Look-Alike Lawman. Glynna Kaye

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      For a moment she thought Cory’s cop was going to say something else. Make an observation. Ask a question. But he merely motioned to her vehicle at the curb. “I’d better let you get on your way.”

      “I am cutting it close. Can’t afford to be late.” With a polite but dismissive nod, she moved toward her car. To her dismay, he kept up with her stride for stride.

      “Where do you work?”

      “Not too far from here. At a medical clinic down the street from that big used-car dealership. You know the one?”

      “I do. So, you’re a nurse? Therapist?”

      She noticed he didn’t ask if she was a doctor—the neighborhood alone answered that question easily enough. But the assumption that she’d have a degree beyond high school stung. Becoming a physical therapist had long been her dream. But Cory had arrived shy of a year of marriage and Duke had insisted that education take a backseat until the kids—however many came along—were in school.

      “No. I’m a receptionist, medical records manager and general go-to gal.”

      “So on your feet all day.” A smile tugged as he glanced down at her strappy, high-heeled sandals, the wisdom of which his amused expression questioned.

      “Right.” She took a slow breath as she reached her vehicle, unwilling to get too chatty with the undeniably attractive man. No, he hadn’t crossed the lines of propriety as a few had done. He hadn’t boldly hinted that a woman alone might appreciate some male companionship. He hadn’t asked her out. Nevertheless, she kept up her guard. “Thank you again, Officer Wallace, for making a little boy very happy.”

      “The name’s Grayson. Or Gray.” He held out his hand.

      “Elise,” she offered reluctantly, as his big hand swallowed hers. She didn’t want to be on a first-name basis with this cop.

      “Pretty name.”

      “Thank you.”

      He released her hand, his brown eyes again questioning—as if still attempting to gauge the level of her interest. She braced herself, preparing to share too-often-practiced words to decline coffee. Dinner. Dessert. Or other more presumptuous propositions.

      But to her surprise he merely fished momentarily in his uniform shirt pocket, then handed her a business card. Was this the latest strategy in the dating game realm? He thought he’d made a good enough impression that she’d call him?

      Arrogant man.

      He stepped back. “Good to meet you, Elise—and Cory as well. Hope you both have a great weekend.”

      With an absurd prick of disappointment, she watched him stroll to his SUV and climb in, lift his unencumbered hand in a parting gesture and drive away.

      She glanced down at the business card and shook her head. Talk about egotistical. But he did have beautiful eyes and was polite.

      And speaking of polite, where had her manners gotten off to? He’d gone out of his way to bring the baseball glove and she hadn’t thought to ask how he’d injured his arm. How long he’d been in law enforcement.

      Or if she would ever see him again.

      * * *

      Grayson pulled up in front of the Colby Ranch’s sprawling main house just short of midnight. With considerable effort, he shoved aside the nagging thoughts of Elise Lopez and her son that had followed him as each mile stretched westward from Fort Worth. He could admit that if it weren’t for the romantic debacle with Jenna months ago and the severed relationship with her son, he could see himself being drawn to the attractive single mom. Maybe even offering to mentor Cory. But he’d been burned. Badly. Did Jenna’s boy feel the void of his abrupt departure as deeply as he did?

      He turned off the ignition and, still gripping the steering wheel, sat staring at the two-story brick home, a few of its windows faintly aglow even at this late hour. The distinctive sweet, dry scent of western Texas wafted through his rolled-down window. The occasional low of distant cattle teased his city-accustomed ears, reminding him of his earliest boyhood years in another small rural town.

      Had it been only a month since he’d returned from his undercover assignment to emails and frantic phone messages from his sister? He’d thought she’d lost her mind—Dad missing, a biological mother deep in a coma and an identical twin for both him and Maddie. But one look at their twins last weekend had settled any doubt about the blood connection. They were kin, all right. Maddie’s wild stories were true, but unfortunately Dad hadn’t been located despite his and his siblings’ best efforts.

      “Lord,” he whispered, absently massaging his injured shoulder, “you’ve gotta help me out here. Every fiber of my body wants to head straight back to Fort Worth. I don’t want to deal with this.”

      He squared his shoulders as he exited the SUV and stretched his stiff legs. His newfound family was counting on him to locate Dad and find answers to the thousand and one questions they all had about their heritage. Questions no one but Dad or the woman going by the name Belle Colby could answer.

      But that was another worm in the apple. Belle—he couldn’t bring himself to think of her as “Mom”—lay unconscious at Ranchland Manor, a care facility a few miles away in Grasslands.

      Having retrieved his duffel bag from the backseat, he’d barely headed toward the house when Maddie, Violet and Jack stepped onto the front porch to offer a warm welcome. All they needed was their baby brother, Carter—a marine on overseas deployment and still unaware of all the family drama—to make their homecoming complete.

      “Grayson!” Maddie’s breathless voice warmed him as he approached. His city-gal sis sure had taken to the country life since she and Violet had stumbled across each other in Fort Worth last July. A God-engineered coincidence for sure. “We were starting to get worried. Thought you’d never get here.”

      “Got a late start.” No point in telling his nosy sister that a beautiful woman had been the cause. He’d never get a moment’s peace.

      Under the dim porch light, his brother Jack hung back, snatching uncomfortable glances in his direction as Violet and Maddie—both mindful of the sling—enveloped Gray in exuberant hugs. Jack’s hair was longer than his, grazing the collar of a Western-cut shirt, and it appeared he didn’t keep at that pesky five o’clock shadow as diligently as did his cop brother.

      Clear, too, that he and Jack still shared an awkwardness despite efforts to get beyond the unnerving situation last weekend when they’d first met. Maddie and Violet didn’t seem to have that problem. You’d have thought they’d grown up together. They even had similar mannerisms and could finish each other’s sentences.

      But he and Jack, while polite and friendly enough on the surface, were strangers. On guard. Uncomfortable with the whole situation.

      When the sisters’ lively welcome calmed down, Gray’s twin thrust out his hand. “Good to have you back.”

      “Good to be back.”

      But from the wary look in Jack’s eyes it was apparent he, too, recognized both were parroting expected pleasantries.

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